


The Vileblood Family

by notsovileblood



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Adoptive Parent, Bloodborne OCs, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Executioners - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Multi-Storyline, Multi-perspective, Parental Love, Slow Burn, Vilebloods, beasts - Freeform, one sided pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:20:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22843945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsovileblood/pseuds/notsovileblood
Summary: During a hunt in their youth, a Crow Hunter discovers a child about to be devoured by a werewolf. Rescuing him and taking him in as their own, they raise an orphaned Vileblood. Once grown, the young Vileblood is summoned home, and the Hunter of Hunter finds themselves tangled in the thorns of the Forsaken Castle Cainhurst’s household.
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yo! this is my first OC exclusive work. It’ll include only a few canon characters and will mostly take place in Cainhurst. 
> 
> There will be multiple perspectives, and some slow burn stuff between a few pairings. Enjoy!

“Run!”

A barely nine year old Caylen looked on in horror as the Church Executioners dragged his mother to the ground. Her body made a blood chilling sound as it hit the stone, their cheers sending fear down his spine like a bolt. His father so valiantly tried to fight them off, his long white hair falling loose from its braid as he fought for his life. The large Vileblood was desperately trying to reach his wife so that she might live as well as their son. But as more and more executioners began to fill the alley, he realised that the chances of them both getting away were slim. After years in hiding, one small slip up, one person seeing the rune on his body, had cost them everything they held so dear.

“Run Caylen!” The large man howled, snarling viciously as his wife’s blood was splattered across the cobblestones and an Executioner’s fist found his nose. 

Caylen was frozen with fear, his mouth gaping. His mother was making such ungodly sounds as the life drained from her and onto the street beneath her. The cries that filled Caylen’s ears did not resemble the tender voice of his mother that he new so well. Trembling, he took a fearful step back, the smell of blood becoming absolutely overwhelming. His father was on the ground, and his eyes found those of his sons, the Executioners were alerted to the child. The one that had cut down his mother slung his accursed wheel over his shoulder, standing from the frail corpse that lay at his feet. 

“Caylen-“ his fathers voice was cut off as a boot found his head, the sound making Caylen let out an involuntary cry. 

He scrambled back a few steps and began to run aimlessly through the alleyways of Central Yharnam. They had hidden themselves among the people there, but as the hunt worsened so did people’s paranoia. It had seemed to be going so well; they had thought themselves safe in their hiding place. He could hear the yells of the Executioners as they began to tail him, barking orders at one another. Tear streaming down his face and stoning his eyes, Caylen ran and ran. He did not know where he was going, and the sun was beginning to set. The hunt would soon begin, but a part of him did not care. His mother’s cries rang in his ears like a never ending song, such a horrible feeling he had never felt before filling him like poison in his veins. 

Caylen wipes his eyes, the smell of rancid meat beginning to fill the air as he reached a large, grand bridge. Glancing behind him, his tiny little body shaking, he wondered if they were still following him. Their voices were not as close as they had been, and with the hunt beginning it would make it harder to find him. He backed up, walking backwards across the bridge as he watched the alleyway for hints of their white garb and strange golden helmets. As he walked, the smell began to grow more pungent, making his nose crinkle. Without realising, he had pressed himself against something warm and smelly. Turning slowly, Caylen took a few steps back to realise the creature he had just disturbed. 

A scraggly werewolf lifted its great head from its meal, the rising moon beginning to glow in its lifeless eyes. Caylen began to whimper, his eyes as wide as the moon that drew out these horrible beasts. It let out a horrible scream, throwing back its head. Caylen screamed and and stumbled, falling and landing in a heap on the blood soaked ground. Before the beast could lurch to grab him with its outstretched claws, a bottle smashed against its back in a burst of flames. Howling, the beast turned to snarl at its challenger. A large figure, dressed like a hunter, stood a few metered away with another Molotov in hand. They were tall and broad, with shaggy black hair tumblr from a black broad brimmed hat. There was a streak of white in their hair that, as they lifted their head to grin, Caylen noticed was stemming from a strange mark on his forehead. There was a cigar in their mouth and a bloodied cleaver in their hand, a blunderbuss strapped to their back. They whistled almost teasingly, and the beast charged them in seconds. 

Caylen watched on, scrambling back as he witnessed yet another bloodbath. The strange hunter fought the beast relentless despite it’s attacks, dodging and slashing and hacking until the life remained within its retched body no more. With a thud and a death throw louder than Caylen has ever heard, the Wild was dead. The Hunter put their foot against the beast’s shoulder, dislodging their cleaver from its throat with a grunt. Blood poured from a giant gash across their face, dripping onto their clothes. 

“Foul thing.” They murmured softly, kicking the corpse as they passed and approached the trembling Caylen. “Did it hurt you?” 

Caylen made no response, only staring in petrified horror. 

“Gods above,” the Hunter sighed softly, slowly bending to their knees. They smelt strangely if the forest, which was an odd scent that cut through the putrid stink of blood and beasts. “It’s the night if the hunt little one. Where are your parents?” 

Caylen’s lip wobbled and be broke from his terrified stupor, tears pouring down his cheeks once again. The Hunter sighed ever so gently, giving him a sad half smile. They scooped Caylen up, holding him tightly with one arm up to their chest. Too tired and too scared to fight the hunger, Caylen buried his face into their chest. The Hunter hurriedly continued across the bridge, approaching the entrance to the Tomb of Oedon. If only they could reach their friends in Cathedral Ward, they may yet make it through the night.


	2. Safety at Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will likely be the last little chapter while Caylen is so young before the time skip into the future! After this, most of the oncoming chapters will take place revolving around Cainhurst.

Caine was standing in the foyer of one of their friend’s homes. 

They were one of their prostitute friends, who had very kindly agreed to let the tall hunter in on such a dangerous night upon finding them on his doorstep. The young man had protested once he had realised Caine had stepped over this threshold covered in monster offal and blood, but the child crying into their neck definitely made him pretend he didn’t mind too deeply. The child had a death grip around Caine’s neck, not overly worried about his surroundings or the strange house, not daring to lift his eyes from the now comforting smell of their skin. Caine was his only safety. 

“What happened? Where did you get, well, that?” The prostitute asked, gently sitting Caine down on his sofa after putting down a rather thick and old towel. His house was very traditional to Yharnam; muted tones and lots of décor. A lot more decorated than Caine’s own, rather small home. 

Caine rubbed the child’s back, kissing his forehead and sighing ever so softly. They had no idea what to do with this child; their impulses and hunter’s instincts had screamed at them to save him, no matter the cost. But they had no space for a child in their home, nor the time or experience to take care of him properly. The closest they had ever reached to parenting was accidentally training a pigeon to come by their window for breadcrumbs in the mornings. But there was something about this child, something about him that unleashed such a protective urge in Caine that they had never felt before. They had rescued other wayward Yharnamites during their hunts before, but there had been nothing like this. 

“I really don’t know what came over me. I found it about to be eaten by a werewolf on the Great Bridge, and I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t just let it devour him.” Caine murmured, grinning sheepishly as their friend teased them for their kindness. “He’s just a child.”

“Yes! Exactly! He’s a child. You know nothing about children.”

“Oh come on Hector.” Caine murmured quietly as the child began to calm in their arms. “Surely it’s not that hard. Besides, I cant just let the Church orphanage take him. You know what the Choir fellas do to kids like this.” 

“But is it your problem, Caine?”

“I worry. Besides, I found this.” Caine whispered, gently pulling down the child’s collar. On the nape of his neck, in his skin, was the rune of the Vilebloods. “You know how they treat Vilebloods. He’s just a child.”

“I think it’s silly.”

“I think he’s cute.” 

“I suppose we’ll have to see what Avery thinks.”

“You know she’ll love him. Of course she’ll approve.”

Caine grinned and tilted their head back with a sigh, the child now sleeping on their chest. 

“May we stay the night? I know it’s a lot to ask, but we just need to stay for now. I can’t leave him, and after the size of the beast I killed, I am done with my hunt for this night.” Caine murmured, giving Hector a pleading look. “I promise we’ll be out of your lovely hair on the morrow.” 

Hector pursed his lips and folded his arms over his chest. While it was true he had no clients that night, and enough incense, he worried about his friend. Sighing and shaking his head, Hector agreed.

“Fine fine. But you are to bathe first, you hear me? And fix up that wound on your face. I know you hunters have blood to heal yourself but that seems to be a rather large one.” 

“I’ll deal with it while I bathe. Thank you Hector, truly.” Caine purred, gently lifting the child and keeping him close to their chest. “You’re such a good friend.”

“I know.” Hector shook his head and smiled, rubbing Caine’s shoulder. 

The pair paused as a young woman came trotting down the staircase, wearing nothing but a very sheer robe. She was pretty, with a delicate face and dark strawberry blonde hair. Her eyes widened as she saw Caine covered in blood and cradling a child, surprise registering on her face. Her eyes landed on the child and the smile that stretched from ear to ear. Avery had always had a soft spot for children. 

“Caine?” She almost laughed as she trotted over to greet her dear friends, smiling and standing on her toes to kiss the Hunter’s bloodied cheek. “What on earth happened to you? And who is this lovely fellow?”

“I’m not sure. I found him on the Great Bridge.” Caine murmured, stroking his hair gently. “He hasn’t spoken a word since I found him.”

“He looks terrified.” She sighed softly, rubbing his back. “I can take him if you would like to bathe?”

“That would be good,” Caine murmured, holding the little child so closely. “I won’t be long.”

“Don’t fret!” She laughed softly. “I shant keep him from you.”

“They want to keep him!” Hector scoffed. 

“I think you would make a wonderful parent.” Avery smiled. “We could always babysit. You know I would never complain about it. He’s so handsome, I’ve never seen such gorgeous hair.”

“Maybe.” Caine smiled a half smile, which disappeared just as quickly when they handed the sleeping child over to Avery. 

The boy began to cry as he was taken out of Caine’s familiar arms, his face scrunching up and tears streaming down his face. His little hands reached out desperately to grab at the hunter, who’s face bore an expression of confusion. They reached back out and scooped him up, Avery giggling softly. 

“I suppose he isn’t ready to let go just yet.” She smiled sweetly. “I’ll go draw you a bath, and he can sit with you while you wash.”

“I think that would be best.” Caine murmured, softly soothing the child in their arms. “It’s alright, I’m here okay? I’m here. You’re safe.” 

Avery disappeared up the ornate staircase to run the hunter’s bath, with Hector saying something about wanting to try and sleep through the hunt. Caine sat themselves back on the couch, trying to pry the child’s face from their neck. It took a few attempts, but finally his puffy little tear stained cheeks dislodged from their neck. The rubbed their nose, sniffling and staring up at him. Caine smiled, feeling their heart swell in their chest. They lifted one hand, wiping his cheek dry. 

“Hello again.” They murmured ever so gently. “You’re safe now. We’re with some very good friends of mine.”

The little boy nodded slowly. 

“Can you tell me your name?”

“C-Caylen.” He stammered. 

“Caylen.” Caine repeated with a warm smile. “That’s a very noble name. I’m Caine. Can you tell me what happened to you? Why you were on that bridge?”

Caylen looked away from them, swallowing slowly. The tears welled in his eyes, but he tried his best not to start up crying again. 

“The Ch-Church people they . . . they found my Mummy and Daddy.” He mumbled, playing with the fastenings on Caine’s garb. 

“Were they wearing strange, yellow helmets?” Caine felt their heart drop in their chest. 

Caylen nodded gently.

“Mummy always said that . . that because of our blood, the Church doesn’t like us. Because we’re Vilebloods.”

“Did those men in helmets take your parents away?”

“They . . “ Caylen looked down and fell silent. 

Sighing, Caine decided they had heard all they needed. Pulling the small child into their embrace, the hunter rubbed his back.

“I will never let them come for you. As long as I’m alive, nobody will ever hurt you again. These people we’re staying with tonight are very kind, I promise. Especially miss Avery. Do you understand?”

There was a slight nod from the little head tucked into their neck.

“Caine! Your bath!” Avery cooed from the top of the stairs. 

“I’m going to go have my bath now, alright? Avery will get you something to eat, and clean you up a little bit. I’ll be right back once I’m done, I promise.”

Caylen nodded gently, slowly detaching from Caine’s torso and clambering off the couch. Avery trotted around, taking Caylen’s hand instead of picking him up. The child gave Caine a longing look as the hunter disappeared up the staircase with a smile, and followed after Avery. Caine pushed into the steamy bathroom, inhaling and closing the door. They unhooked the chain of their garb, beginning to undress rather quickly. Their clothes were filthy, and would definitely need cleaning in the dream to truly get rid of the monster offal and blood. Finally naked, they removed their hat and stepped into the large, claw footed bath beneath a now boarded up window. Caine let out a low hum as they were greeted by the hot water, smiling slightly and sitting themselves down. The water reached about to their chin, the blood already beginning to lift from their skin.   
Carefully and gently, they began to was at the wound on their face, wanting to make sure there were no nasty little foreign pieces of gunk that may infect it. It would leave a huge scar, even with the use of blood vials. 

It had been so worth it though; rescuing that child may have been foolish or impulsive, but they would have died for him in an instant.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a long many years.

Caylen had grown into a handsome young man with biggest heart Caine had ever seen in anyone, especially in a place like Yharnam. The vast group of prostitute friends Caylen often spent his time being babysat by while their parent went out to hunt were always nothing but kind and loving, which was something he picked up from them. Caine had grown into parenthood, becoming a good figure for Caylen as he grew. They spoke occasionally of Caylen’s Vileblood heritage; he knew a little from his parents, and Caine could only teach him so much with the little amounts of knowledge they had on their own. Quietly, the Hunter of Hunters had found a Cainhurst summons, strangely addressed to them. But Cainhurst was a dangerous place; even they knew that. So the crow hunter kept the summons, but never heeded them. Caylen was safer with them; not near the Vilebloods or the Executioners that usually followed not far behind.

Almost nineteen, it was growing near to Caylen’s birthday. Caine had spent a few days hunting around the Chalice Dungeons looking for gifts for their adoptive son; something strange or unique that they knew he would appreciate. A nice blood gem, or some kind of item that usually acted as a rare offering.   
They had returned from the dream, entering the waking world once again. Glancing back and forth, the crow hunter darted away from the lamp they came from and dashed through allies and backstreets until they came across the old collection of little townhouses that they shared with Caylen. It was small and modest, but the size of their home had never mattered. Unlocking the door with a rusty old key, Caine pushed through the door – having to duck due to their enormous height – and closing it behind them, being careful not to get their feathered garb stuck. Again.

“Caylen!” They cooed. “I’m home!”

No response. 

Caine frowned, calling out again. After a second round of silence, the hunter pulled their blades off of their back, the single sword clicking neatly into a glistening pair. They made no noise as they walked, well trained body not betraying their position. There was sound coming faintly from the kitchen, so Caine slithered down the hallway and found themselves standing in the doorway. Caylen was standing at the sink, hands up and eyes wide. He glanced to Caine as he noticed them, eyes then darting back to the figure standing before him. They weren’t overly tall, with a strange silvery helm and plume of hair the same moonlight white as Caylen’s. Their armour, the feathered garb, their weapon; Caine recognised them instantly. 

The figure did not turn to face them, only remained focused on Caylen.

“You’re the Bloody Crow of Cainhurst.” Caine murmured lowly, blades poised. “Aren’t you?” 

The figure gave them their attention, slowly tilting their head.

“I’ve had my eyes out for you. So I’d like to know what the fuck you’re doing in my kitchen.” 

The Bloody Crow gave them a final look before they reached forward, slowly handing an envelope to Caylen. He glanced to Caine almost as if for approval, and with a small nod he took it. The Crow did not move, almost as if they were waiting for Caylen to open it. Slowly, Caylen broke off the wax seal, pulling out the letter inside with his delicate fingers. He continually glanced up to Caine for comfort, before finally swallowing and reading the letter. The room was tense and silent for what felt like an eternity; Caylen read, Caine held their breath, and the Crow simply sat and stared. His expression gave away nothing of how he felt, but his eyes slowly lifted to his parent. 

“They want me to come to Cainhurst. Immediately.” He murmured, still tense. “Caine they . . they know my parens.” 

“Absolutely not.” Caine grunted almost immediately, which warranted an almost angry movement from the Crow. They turned to them this time, shoulders squared back. “You can threaten me all you like. He isn’t going.”

The Crow simply stared.

“Caine, maybe- maybe we should talk about this.” Caylen murmured, swallowing. “Hey, um . . Mister Cainhurst? Can we have a moment, please?”  
The Bloody Crow was silent and still for a moment before moving toward the doorframe, barely reaching Caine’s shoulders as they slipped past them. Caylen darted forward to hug the large crow hunter, pulling away almost just as quickly.

“I really don’t want you going.” 

“Please think about it Caine.” Caylen pleaded. “I want to know more about who I am. I . . I want to know if they knew my parents.”

“I don’t know about this Caylen.” Caine mumbled. “They’re not to be trusted.”

“They’re technically my family.”

Caine fell silent. They often forgot that Caylen’s parents had been Vilebloods. About the rune on his skin, and where he had come from. Their chest ached. 

You’re not really his parent. A voice filled his head.

“I only want to go if you come with me.” Caylen murmured after a moment. “I won’t go if you won’t come.”

Caine stared down at their child, feeling their heart tug in their chest. Cainhurst wasn’t somewhere they had ever planned on taking themselves, let alone bringing Caylen. The grounds, from what they’d heard, were littered with bloodlickers and spectres. But maybe after a visit, maybe seeing the Queen herself would deter Caylen from wanting to go back again. They nibbled their lower lip, sighing softly and tilting their head back. At least going with him, they would know he was safe. They could protect him. 

“Alright. Fine.”

Caylen’s face lit up and he smiled, practically beaming as he hugged the tall hunter. 

“Thank you! Thank you!” He chirped, practically jumping on the spot. “I’ll go get dressed?”

“Dress for cold!” Caine called as the little Vileblood sprinted down the hall and flew up the stairs toward his bedroom. Sighing and shaking their head, Caine decided to drop by the dream and grab some of their warmer garb for underneath their crow feather cape. They called to let Caylen know as they passed his bedroom door, dipping into their own small room. From their springy bed they pulled a hunters mark from the pillow, taking a breath and utilising the hunter’s tool. In a strange, swirling feeling, the Hunter felt their felt graze the cobble path of the dream, and their eyes opened. 

Beaming, the hunter dashed forward to greet their doll. She smiled as she saw them, letting out a sound that they recognised as her laugh. They scooped her up and swirled her around, feeling warmth overwhelm them as they greeted her. 

“Hello, dear hunter.” She smiled, smoothing her dress as she was placed down. 

“My dearest doll.” Caine smiled, kissing her forehead. “I’m not going to be here for long, sadly.”

“That is unfortunate, dear hunter.” She followed them as they walked up the staircase toward the Workshop.

“Yes, sadly. Today I’ll be needing- ah, here it is.” Caine pulled the tattered old envelope from their storage chest, tucking it into their vest and pulling out a warmer undercoat. 

“Are you travelling to Cainhurst today, dear hunter?”

“Yes, I came home to the Bloody Crow of Cainhurst in my kitchen.” Caine sighed, pulling their undercoat on and slipping their feathered garb back over their shoulders. “I’ll likely be returning again, dear. Please take care.”

“Of course.” She gently closed her eyes as Caine pecked her cheek, disappearing back toward the headstone. 

Time for the long journey ahead.


End file.
